


They never loved me anyway...

by BearBear8



Series: Roman needs more love [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 15:49:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20245357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BearBear8/pseuds/BearBear8
Summary: Roman hasn’t been doing well lately, but it seems no one has noticed...





	They never loved me anyway...

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo! First of all, I’m sorry if this is really bad! This is my first time ever posting anything I’ve wrote! So if there are any grammar mistakes, or it doesn’t read well then I’m sorry! D: 
> 
> This is just something I came up as a little venting fic, and decided to use Roman boyo as the character. Since imo he doesn’t get enough love either! When it comes to angst fics dealing with more serious topics such as these. 
> 
> Anyway, this does involve some pretty heavy topics, as the tags say. So if you’re triggered by any of that, then I’d recommend skipping this one. There are mentions of blood, but nothing too graphic I don’t believe. But I wouldn’t want any of y’all getting triggered, so please be safe <3

Roman wasn’t quite sure how he ended up here, bleeding out on his bathroom floor.

But one thing he is sure of, is that he’s never felt more at peace. You’d think he’d be panicking, afraid of the amount of blood he’s losing, afraid of what comes after. But no, that doesn’t scare him. He’s too tired to be scared anymore. He’s too tired to even care anymore, he stopped caring months ago.

Or, that’s what he likes to tell himself. He doesn’t care, he doesn’t care, _he doesn’t care._ Really, he doesn’t. Honest.

He doesn’t care about how much weight he’s lost, he doesn’t care about how many scars he’s given himself, he doesn’t care that no one noticed the makeup he wore to hide the bags under his eyes from not sleeping, he doesn’t care that nothing gave him happiness anymore, that nothing made him feel whole. He doesn’t care, __he doesn't.__

And he most certainly, he most definitely, 100% Does. Not. Care. That his fam-ily never noticed any of those things... 

He doesn’t, he doesn’t, _he doesn’t._ You don’t care, you don’t, _y-you d-don’t care you don’t ca_— <strike></strike><strike>you do care though. </strike>

But he does care. He cares so much, that’s what hurts the most. He cares about it all, about every little thing. But it seems no one else does. So he can’t either. He _can't._

Yeah, that’s what hurts the most he decides. Yknow, minus the gashes running up and down his arms, but hey, at least that part would all be over soon.

_It would all be over soon._

That thought brought him a small amount of comfort and relief, because wouldn’t you know it, dying was a _lot _more painful than Roman was expecting. It felt like his arms were on fire, running all up and down the length of his arms.

It didn’t help that he was shaking and quietly sobbing too. His tears and snot dripping off his face, and mixing with his blood. His prince uniform was completely ruined, but he’s supposes it doesn’t matter anymore, maybe it never did. Either way, he won’t need it anymore anyway. No, not after tonight he won’t.

That thought does send a pang to his chest though. If he took pride in anything, it was his upkeep. Even when he felt like utter, utter shit, he always wore the damned prince outfit. Always. It was a part of his character after all, if he hadn’t worn it, the other sides would suspect something. It also gave him the benefit of being long sleeved, so he didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing the signs of his self mutilation. So you’d be damned before you saw him without it.

Looking down at himself, he lets a out a weak and garbled chuckle, noticing how there’s not much white left to his white and red costume. It’s mostly just red now from his blood. _Well,_ he thinks morbidly, I_ always did like the color red. _

Wincing from the pain, Roman tries to shift into a more comfortable position, crying out when his weak body protests the movement. Finally, he ends up with his back against the wall, right next to his tub.

Roman closes his eyes and tries to think of simpler times, back when there wasn’t so much grey area. Back when he was happy, where he was sure he was loved and cared for. He thinks of all the memories of the other sides he has, of his friends, of his twin, of is _fam-ily._ He thinks about them until he realizes it’s making him cry harder. So instead he chooses to focus on how this will all be over soon.

Soon he reminds himself. Soon he’ll be out of everyone’s hair, soon he won’t have to be a burden anymore. Soon he won’t be hurting. So thinking about that, Roman slowly drifts off into unconsciousness. With his final thought being.

_...They never loved me anyway..._

**Author's Note:**

> Whoooo boi. I hope that wasn’t too bad! And I know, I know. But I promise! This won’t be the end. (Even tho that ending,,,seems pretty final) 
> 
> I’m not sure if anyone will actually read this, but if anyone does, there will be more! I’m not sure when since I’m bad at being consistent, but hopefully soon!
> 
> Thank you to anyone who does read and enjoy this! <3


End file.
